1475 Broadway
by spaghettiparty
Summary: 10 Years after graduation. The original glee club members reunite for the first time in years to spend New Year's Eve together in New York. Who followed their dreams and which couple is still together? Every chapter is written from a different point of view.
1. Puck

Hey guys! This was just an idea I came up with while writing Queen of Coney Island, so I decided to give it a shot. It can't give any indications on this story's length, but I'm positive it won't be as long as my other stories. Anyway, I hope you like it.

_December 31, 9:00 AM – John F. Kennedy Airport_

I yawn and glance at my bulletproof watch. I laughed at the thing at first, when my mother gave it to me as Christmas present last year, but the present was still wrapped around my wrist tightly, having survived a numerous amount of attacks. And it wasn't even scratched yet. Since it was the time of the year everyone would make good resolutions –which they by the way probably canceled the minute the New Year started-, I decided to participate for once. I'd thank my mother as soon as I could finally leave the airport, because _damn_, it took a long time for the first suitcase to show up on the baggage carousel.

At least I wouldn't lose any precious time hysterically hugging family members in the arrival hall, I thought as I saw a woman in advanced state of pregnancy leaping into the arms of her crying husband.

Because, there was no one waiting for me in the arrival hall. No one to give me a warm hug after having spent more than a year between war victims in Iraq. Not that I would ever admit that, yes, being away from family and friends for over a year actually made a person feel pretty goddamn lonely. My mother, but also my friends had ran out on me because they had other places to be, but whatever. I am a grown ass man now and I can't blame them. One of the main reasons I am back in my home country is because I got shot down again, and my general had demanded me to take a break.

My thoughts got interrupted by a loud shriek. Apparently, the baggage carousel had started and the pregnant woman had been too busy clinging her husband to notice that her suitcase had already passed her by.

''_Laris_!'' the husband blurted from under his ridiculous mustache that made him look like a fourteen-year old with a severe growth problem. ''Your bag!''

I follow his glance and assume the leopard printed suitcase that almost reached him, was hers. Leaning forward, I grab the bag and hand it over to the teenage kid with mustache, who had a panting spouse in his wake because she had tried to keep up with his spurt.

''Thank you, _officer_…'' he shot a brief glance at the name badge pinned to my uniform, ''_Puckerman_.'' He awkwardly patted my left shoulder to save his face, which only made it more awkward but he obviously didn't realize.

''No need to call me officer, sir'' I laugh on the wrong side of my mouth. I hate the fact that people treats me different while having my uniform on. Normally, they would probably think I am just a piece of shit that would loll on his balcony all day, drinking beer and whistling at girls down the street. But, with his uniform on I immediately turn into a life-saving angel, _the hypocrites_.

''Uh, if you don't mind,'' I lift my camo backpack from the baggage carousel while shooting a meaningful look at the exit, and the man seems to get my hint.

''Oh, sure,'' the man cleared the way, ''thanks and happy New Year, offic… _Puckerman_.''

I grin at him over my shoulder and raise my hand in acknowledgement. With this good deed, my karma was somewhat improved. Right now, the only thing I crave is a cold beer and then nap until the beginning of the evening. I am supposed to meet my friends after ten anyways, so there would be enough time to nap. Pushing my way through the people, I come to a halt. I spin on my heels to see if I am right, _and I goddamn am_. I hadn't been hallucinating.

''Dude!'' I blurt as the long man with blonde, lank hair and his huge mouth curled into a grin, pulls me into a bro hug. ''_What the fuck_? I thought you couldn't come because of your chick.''

''Bros before hoes man, _bros before _hoes,'' Sam roughly pats my back.

''Long time no see,'' I state when I step back to size up my friend. ''Shit, you almost look like… an adult. What's up with the suit and the leather shoes? Bet they aren't cheapass.''

''I've finally grown up,'' is Sam's answer. ''Believe it or not, the lawyer I had an internship last year offered me a contract. _Here, give that to me_,'' he says, grabbing one of the backpack's straps and shifting the backpack over to his own back.

''So, what about a beer?'' Sam speaks the magic words I wanted to hear so badly. It was 9 AM, but whatever. I think I deserve one.

''Exactly what I thought,'' I couldn´t disagree with him. ''_Shotgun_.''

With a grin, Sam lifts my backpack in his trunk. ''Good to have you back Puck.''

This would be the first time in years my New Year's Eve would actually be nice, I would bet my fine ass on that. Because, I couldn't come up with anything that was worse than celebrating New Year's Eve somewhere at the other side of the world in a warzone, far away from family and friends. And that was exactly what I had been doing the past few New Year's Eves.


	2. Santana

_December 31, 9:30 AM – Manhattan, New York_

''_Oh, fuck_,'' I groaned as I roll aside to lay down on my back, next to a still heavily panting Brittany. Mornings like these were the best: waking up with sweet lady sex. _With the hottest girlfriend in the world_. In the beginning, I had been afraid I'd get tired of having sex with the same person over and over again, but God, how could I have ever been so wrong?

''What, _again_?'' two deep blue eyes give me a questioning glance.

I grin at my confused girlfriend and pull the blankets just to over my bare breasts. ''No Britt.'' I grab into the leather jack that lays next to the bed, to pull out a pack of cigarettes and light one up. An after-sex cigarette, _even better_.

''Don't do that,'' Brittany protests softly, leaning onto her elbow, ''You know I don't like that.''

''What?'' though I know exactly what she was talking about.

''Smoke inside. It stinks and I'm pretty sure the landlord said you aren't allowed to smoke inside.''

I exhale the smoke and point at the wall in front of us, which is partly covered in doodles. ''Well, did he said you're allowed to draw on the wall? _Don't think so_.'' While Brittany seems to over think the comment I toss the cigarette out of the window.

''But you told me I could,'' Brittany pouts. ''Since we're looking for a new house.''

I roll over and snuggle into Brittany's warm arms. ''Hm-hm,'' I mumble in Brittany's hair, placing a kiss behind the blonde's ear. ''Although you can't really call this a house. We don't even have a proper bed,'' I pat on the mattress we're lying on, right on the ground. I actually do have money to buy a house in one of New York's suburbs, but both of us rather live in the city centre, where apartments are a hell lot more expensive.

But, the thing Brittany doesn't know is that I am busy getting us a new apartment, a _real _apartment that consists of more than a crappy living room and a shared bathroom. Because our living room was decorated by the previous owners under the motto 'let's try to make it look hobo chic and artistic', but in reality just looked like a child had played Sims on this room and randomly put all of the furniture together, using the most hideous color combinations ever.

The apartment I have my eyes on is located just two blocks away and it consists of a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, an own bathroom and a freakin' huge balcony. _A balcony_. But the best thing is that it is an apartment on the tenth floor, which means that they would have an awesome view, which Brittany would absolutely love.

Brittany straightens a little to glimpse at their tiny palace and then nods approvingly. ''You're right. I'm very sorry I'm not some kind of heart surgeon so that I can satisfy all of your princely needs, _Princess on the Pea_.''

''No biggie,'' I play along, ''yesterday morning the chubby kid from the kiosk tried to hit on me by giving me a free lottery ticket, I'll just win the jackpot, you know.''

''Oh,'' Brittany exclaims lightly while she cups my face, ''then we've got nothing to worry about, right?''

''Hm, I think you're absolutely right,'' I mumble against Brittany's soft lips. My almost-kiss gets answered by Brittany pressing her lips onto mine firmly, after which Brittany shifts her weight and rolls over so she is topping me.

''But the thing is,'' Brittany breaks the kiss with a teasing smirk. ''Since we moved from your college's dorms to _here_, we haven't had any noise complaints because we don't have a real bed.''

I grin at Brittany's waggish facial expression. She really is innocent and ignorant like a cute little puppy.

''That's what you think,'' I run my hands along Brittany's thighs. ''I recall having a _very_ pissed off yet slightly awkward neighbor knocking on the door last week, she said something about us even drowning out the noise of her shower.''

''Oh my God,'' Brittany gasps into her hands, ''was it Mrs. Wang? 'Cause she's pretty awkward but also pervy.''

I shake my head. ''Lynda, psycho chick from the second floor. With the jug ears.''

''_Lynda_?'' Brittany repeats her words in awe. ''I thought she was gay.''

''Not everyone is gay,'' I friendly remind Brittany of the fact, because we sometimes forget, especially in public we get gazed after a lot. But whatever, it is the twenty-first century, worse things were happening than two women walking around, holding hands. Like seven-year-olds ripping out their own eyeballs because they didn't get an iPad for Christmas, and that was putting it mildly.

''Speaking about gay.'' Brittany had already exceptionally quickly moved on, ''Kurt left me like, twenty messages. If we're also coming tonight.''

_Shit_. That was the topic I had been trying to avoid the past few weeks, and just when I thought I got away with it, Brittany needed to point it out again. My girlfriend really has a memory like an elephant.

''Yeah, about that…'' I nervously tap Brittany's thighs with my fingers, searching for a way to put my thoughts into words since Brittany really seems to look forward to seeing their friends from high school again.

''What?'' Brittany's warm eyes gaze down at her, her head tilted a little of curiosity.

''I don't- I don't really wanna go,'' I eventually utter, immediately feeling sorry because Brittany starts pouting. ''I mean, half of them already lives in New York, if I wanted to see them I would've already done that,'' I explain quickly.

''But,'' Brittany falters, looking puzzled. ''Everyone will be there.''

''Exactly,'' I push myself up so that I am sitting on the bed, a half-naked and confused Brittany still balancing on my lap. If I wasn't so busy finding words to explain what I mean, I would have already been focused on something _very different_.

''I left Lima because I hated _everything_ there. The only thing I loved was you, and you came to New York with me,'' I simply shrug, ''so I've got everything I could ever wish for.'' At this moment I am _so _glad there is no one in the apartment with us to witness what I just said. Puck would've laughed his balls off, but he is in Iraq at the moment. _Fucking prick_.

''Awh,'' Brittany exclaims with red cheeks, ''really?''

''Really,'' I confirm, pressing a light kiss onto Brittany's pale lips.

''I'm totally going to remember you said that, though,'' Brittany narrows her eyes at me, ''so I can blackmail you when you're drunk or something like that.''

''Oh, don't you dare Missy,'' I try to come across serious, but apparently I make a clean breast of it, because Brittany just scowls and nods slowly, as if she isn't taking me seriously.

''Come here,'' I pull a resisting Brittany down by cupping her face.

''No, _San_, I can't,'' Brittany's smothered voice fades away as I firmly kiss her.

''Seriously, I need to work in half an hour,'' Brittany mutters into the kiss. ''Do you want me to buy you a new bed or not? _Okay_, _whatever,_'' the blonde gasps as I ignore her and pull down her panties. ''_Bed can wait until next year_.''


	3. Tina

_I didn't plan on putting a note to this chapter so I'll keep it short. I just wanted to thank everyone for their responses to the first two chapters, I didn't expect your response to be so massive, especially on tumblr. So thanks to everyone who took the time to write me a message on tumblr/write a review, you have no idea how much I appreciate it! Having that said, here's the third chapter. Hope it won't disappoint._

_December 31, 10:30 AM – 1475 Broadway_

Unwrinkled dress? _Check_. The required paper files? _Check_. Two medium decaf lattes? _Check_. No leftovers between her teeth? _Check_.

With one last look at my own reflection in the mirror, I let out a deep, shaky sigh. There were only a few more hours left to survive, pretty reasonable, right? At least I survived the busiest morning of the year until lunch break, and to me, that seemed like an accomplishment in itself.

I remove the last few crumbs of my breakfast from the corner of my mouth and clamp my briefcase between my arm and my upper body, then making my way through the crowded corridors, holding the coffees in my left hand and a pile of folders in my right hand. It was still a mystery to me how I survived the obstacles which led to my desk every day without knocking somebody over.

''_Bianca_,'' I hiss at my neighbor who occupies the desk in front of mine when something hits my head for the fifth time, ''_stop throwing pencils at my head_. I'm busy.''

Bianca doesn't respond but ducks away behind her computer and points with a pencil towards something behind me, the expression on her face not predicting anything good.

''Frank wants to see you.''

I roll my eyes while I stand up and grab the coffees to make my way to my boss's office. Bianca is such a drama queen, sure, Frank is the notorious boss, but Bianca always pulls the long bow.

''Pussy.''

I put one of the coffees on Frank's office and sit down on the chair in front of him. ''You wanted to see me?''

My grumpy boss briefly glances at me from under his monobrow and folds his hands over his pot belly. I always wonder how much money he spent on growing that gross thing. A fortune probably, since the amount of sausages that disappear under his mustage all day long are near to uncountable.

''Nina,'' Frank takes a swig from his coffee, leaving a coffee mustache above his lips, which curl into an unsatisfied grimace. He abruptly cuts off his story. ''This,'' he points at the paper mug with his chubby finger, pinched by his rusted ring, ''_is not soy milk_.''

_Shit_. I ignore the fact that he called my name wrong and shove one of the files I took with me away under my legs. Today isn't a good time to show him the column I wrote myself.

''S-sorry,'' I stutter, offering Frank mine. ''I must've swapped them.''

Frank shakes his head. ''No I don't want yours.'' He presses one of the buttons of his intercom and leans closer to the thing. ''Bianca. Coffee. My office,'' he barks at the possibly very scared girl at the other side of the phone.

''Nina,'' Frank starts over, ''I need you to work tonight. It's a goddamn madhouse. The ball that's supposed to drop tonight isn't working and therewithal we don't have anyone to speak to the press, so, Nina, I need you to take care of the press tonight.''

He pulls a questioning facial expression when I don't respond at first, after that, impatiently waves with his hands. ''You can leave _Asia_, I'm wasting my valuable time here.''

''B-but,'' I utter, mentally face-palming myself. _I hate the stutter_. Sure, in the beginning of high school I laid my stutter on thick, but I hadn't been completely faking it. Every time I get in a critical situation, my stutter shows up again. And it isn't something I can use right now.

''_But_,'' I recover myself, inhaling deeply, and getting an amused yet bored glance from Frank, who had leaned back, put his feet on his desk and had a ridiculous thick cigar clenched between his yellow teeth. As if he was in a mafia film.

''I can't work tonight. I'm meeting friends. Oh, and you can't smoke inside.''

Frank bursts out one of his donkey noises, as I call them. In general that noise was called 'laughter' but I can't quite figure in which way that sound would possibly be close to laughter.

''At least you're funny, Nina,'' Frank shakes his head while he starts rummaging between the organized clutter that was spread onto his desk.

''_My name is Tina_.''

Frank pauses from his rant to take a deep inhale from his cigar and, thereafter, exhale it right into my face without noticing.

I can see Frank's mouth moving but his words don't reach me. This was exactly how high school had been for me. For years I sat on the back row in glee club, not getting any attention or recognition because there was always Rachel Berry to take away the solos, Kurt to look more fashionable than I did, or Santana to get all of the –negative- attention with her insults. But, attention was attention after all. And I am done with it. I'm not going to let anyone belittle me anymore.

''…The secretary also fucked us up because that twat from the second floor had a stroke yesterday and now claims to be needing time to recover, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the advice she took from the _other_ cow, now, I need you to…''

Frank stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyeballs almost popping out as he stares at me. I have unconsciously put up my hand to cut him off and now realize I have to speak up.

''What now, _Brina_?''

And with that, something inside me snaps.

''_My name is Tina, Frank. Tina Cohen-Chang_,'' I hiss while I slam the paper Frank just gave me onto the table and scribble my name onto it, while Frank's eyes almost bulge.

''_T_._I_._N_._A_. _You see_? I impatiently point at the paper. ''And also, Tina _fucking _quits. You can find someone else do drop your lame ball tonight.''

I grab the coffee Frank had rejected –very childish, I know, but it is on principal-, and dramatically make my way to the door. Shall I slam the door loudly or would that also be childish? I don't know.

''Tina,'' a voice behind me blurts, and I stop walking in front of the door, ''you walk out that door and I swear to my unborn grandchildren, you won't ever find another job in the city.''

I don't turn around but put one foot on the doorstep, getting ready to leave the door.

''_Don't you dare_,'' Frank huffs in a warning tone of voice from his seat, still being badass with his cigar, based on the smell that still dominated the room

Smiling, I put my other foot on the doorstep, leaning a little forward. By now, at least twenty people were inquisitively staring at the going-on, safe from behind their desks. The fact that Frank's office was made of glass always yielded hilarious situations, when you weren't the person that had ended up in the situation, of course.

''_Ti_-_na_.''

Success. He finally knows my name.

Without looking back at Frank, I stride along the other desks, feeling every single eye in the room burning into my back as I pass my –now _ex_- colleagues. It is kind of sad, that all the time I worked here, nobody really noticed me or knew my name, but after this incident, they suddenly would. _Thrill seekers_.

I push the big, red button next to the elevator before I leave the building, sniggering at myself. I have always wanted to push that button, and _wow_, it felt so good. I should've done that way earlier.

I push my way through the crowd that had gathered around the building, all dying to catch a glimpse from what was going on inside. Loud sirens come closer as the crowd parts to create a path for the firemen.

''Sir,'' I pat a fireman's shoulder, ''I believe I saw smoke coming from the third floor, the boss's office.''


	4. Quinn

_December 31, 12 PM – Cambridge, UK_

''Quinn? _Quinn_!''

I sigh, roll my eyes and push my laptop aside. Coming home for the weekend was the most stupid idea ever. I came here because I needed some time away from the city and from Beth, but my mother is almost as annoying. Beth had reached the age on which she was being querulous all the time because she insisted on going to her best friend's birthday party, but she was grounded because I found out she had been throwing slugs at their neighbor's windows.

''It's Beth,'' my mother stumbles into my office where I locked myself for the last two days because apparently the office in London couldn't do without me for a few days.

''_She wants to tell you about the party the other night_,'' my mother covers the phone with her hand, not that Beth wouldn't hear her because she is smart and my mother is the worst whisperer I know. ''_Be nice_. _I know she's grounded but I told grandma she could let her go_.''

I shoot her a death glare and grab the phone, pointing my mother towards the door, but she starts folding garment from the laundry basket that stands on the floor. She is also the worst eavesdropper ever.

''Hey sweetie,'' I speak in a sweet tone of voice, completely faking it but whatever. I am busy.

''Mommieee,'' Beth exclaims on the other end, my grandma yelling in the background because she was trying to put clothes on the probably very excited girl. ''Guess what I did yesterday?''

''What did you do?'' I guess, clamping the phone between my ear and shoulder to be able to type at the same time. I just received a message from Lisa, my assistant, telling me that at their other establishment in New York, it is chaos and I had to turn on my TV, which I did. The screen showed Times Square, filled with firemen and sensation seekers and it seemed like they were evacuating the Times Tower.

''…and then we made pancakes and watched a movie and Jessica ate too much pancakes so she threw up all over Lucy's couch,'' Beth says in one breath, almost panting of excitement. ''Can we also bake pancakes mommy?''

''We'll bake pancakes when I'm home again honey,'' I say, not tearing away my glance from the television once. ''It's just that mommy's really busy at the moment.''

Beth makes a noise of disappointment at the other end, then yelling something at my grandma I can't make up anything from.

''Beth? Honey? I really gotta go, but I'll call you tonight before you go to bed, okay?''

''Okay,'' Beth mumbles reluctantly, ''I miss you mommy.''

I swallow away the lump in my throat. The lump is probably my maternal instinct showing up. Not being with Beth on New Year's Eve sucked, but that's how it is this year.

''Miss you too,'' I mutter, getting a melancholy glance from my mother, who still hadn't left the room. ''_I love you_.''

After Beth had repeated my words, I end the phone call and continue staring at the television, which right now showed Frank, the branch director in New York. He looked sad with his mustache slightly hanging down and a sausage clamped between his hands. It was one of the only things he had managed to take with him from his office while everyone got evacuated.

''Guess who I just got off the phone with.''

I glance at my mother, who was still folding clothes and putting them onto piles.

''Grandma.''

''Uh-uh,'' my mother shook her head. ''Sam.''

''_Sam_,'' I repeat slowly, leaning back in my chair. ''Sam as in, big lips Sam? Sam who's dating an eighteen-year-old chick and pretends to be adult because he's wearing a suit his boss paid for him Sam?''

''Yes, Quinn, big lips Sam. _Also your ex Sam_,'' mother chats awkwardly, pushing down the pile of clothes with her ass.

''Don't bother mother,'' I nod towards the heap of clothes, being more interested in my mother's story. ''What did he want? A good job recommendation so that he can apply at a strip club again?''

''What? No, sweetie,'' my mother sits down on the edge of my desk, the thing dangerously creaking but hey, why not? It wasn't like I paid something like eight hundred pounds for the shitty piece of antic.

''He called about Puck. He arrived in New York this morning. Sam thinks Puck really wants to see you.''

''And I don't want to see him. He chose Iraq over Beth mom, I've given him plenty of chances,'' I avoid my mother and glance at the screen again, on which Frank was now in a heartbreaking interview, wailing about how busy he was today and that a psycho just pulled his fire alarm.

My mother was also staring at the screen before she reached over and turned it off.

''Hey! I was watching that,'' I roll my eyes and lean forward to turn it on again when my mother put her hand over the switch, giving me a warning glance.

''Why didn't you tell me your friends are meeting tonight? _Any why aren't you on the plane yet_?'' she added, raising her eyebrows even further.

I shrug. ''Because I'm busy with work and I don't want to see them. They pretty much suck mom. Don't you remember how they treated me in high school?''

My mother removes her hand from the button, apparently stating I wouldn't attempt to turn it on again. God her maternal instinct is so good, I should take her as an example. When Beth was younger, I sometimes didn't even notice when Beth's diaper was full while the entire neighborhood could enjoy the smell.

''You know that's not true,'' she shakes her head. ''Last week you kept telling me about your phone call with Rachel and I happen to know you're also checking on the military in Iraq.''

''Mom!'' I huff, crossing my arms, ''I told you to stop looking through my laptop. That's private. You don't want to find any pictures that aren't meant for your eyes.''

''Oh darling, you're so bad at lying,'' mother fondles my messy hair with a smile, ''I know you don't have that kind of stuff on your laptop.''

''Whatever,'' I semi-pout, ''I don't want to see that man slut.''

''Hm,'' my mother just hums, getting back to her laundry. ''Correct me if I'm wrong but he wasn't the only slut in high school.''

I put on my headset again and scroll through my phone for Lisa's number to search for distraction.

''We've got the guy who sang to your monogram,'' my mother counts on her fingers, ''_lips_, a pity you guys broke up. You would've made beautiful babies. _Uh_,'' she stares in the distance, ''Puck, of course. How can I ever forget that? Oh, the teen Jesus with the dreadlocks who you by the way never introduced to us. And I even recall overhearing a conversation on the parking lot about you and that Latina-''

''Oh my God, mom, stop!'' I clash my headset onto the desk. When your mother knows about all of your of your private high school adventures, something had gone really, _really_ wrong.

Mother waves her free hand through the air, wiggling her eyebrows at me. ''I believe I've hit the magical five. And I don't even want to know about the things you did after that. _More girls_? That's not how we roll in the Fabray family, Quinn.''

''Okay, that's it,'' I stand up and guide my mother towards the door, taking the laundry basket with me, ''enough embarrassing stories about my high school experiences, you can leave now.'' I desperately wish her mother didn't notice my red cheeks.

''Okay, okay,'' my mother put her hands up in the air, pulling an innocent facial expression. ''I'll stop. But you need to loosen up. You're not going to spend New Year's Eve by yourself in your office.''

''I don't have money for a plane ticket. They're really expensive. _Now leave_,'' I sigh in attempt to get my stalky mother to leave the room.

''Well, call it a coincidence but I just pawned off all of your Barbie Doll's houses.''

''_What_? Are you serious? I just promised Beth them. She'll kill me if I won't-''

''Money's in the drawer under the kitchen unit,'' my mother pecks my cheek and grabs the laundry basket from my hands. ''You can thank me later.''


	5. Kurt

_December 31, 12.30 PM – Lima, Ohio_

''_Don't_. _Laugh_,'' I nudge a shaking Mercedes. ''_I've put a lot of effort in this_.''

Mercedes doesn't respond but wipes off the tears of laughter from her face. She had been kind and patient from the beginning, but the moment the very cliché ''Here Comes The Bride'' started, tears of laughter started rolling over her cheeks.

I can't really blame her though. This is _unusual_, that being the nicest way to describe this wedding.

''Please tell me the story again,'' Mercedes whispers through closed lips, her eyes still wet of laughter and her make-up everywhere on her face, except from the places it needs to be. But I would wait to tell her. Payback.

I lean a little closer to not interrupt the bride's stroll down to the altar.

''Okay, so she called me like, two weeks ago. She kept insulting me at first, you know how she is, but then, and I seriously perceived some niceness, she just asked me if I wanted to arrange her wedding.''

''But why you? Why not… _Becky_?''

''Seriously? Becky would've let her wear jeans or pajamas during the wedding and not feel guilty about it,'' I hiss, piqued. Why would anyone ever doubt the fact that I am good at arranging wedding? I already arranged Rachel's and Finn's, although that was around fifteen years ago and didn't even go through. But still.

Mercedes nods. ''What about the place? The punch? His suit? Her _dress_?'' she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

''She wanted a familiar place, so I ended up with this,'' I pat on the wooden benches that were set up in the locker room. ''Let me see… the punch is entirely made of low-fat milk and includes vitamin C and vitamin D milkshakes and so is the cake. I called my niece to get him that traditional Indian suit and Isabelle found some time to make her that dress.''

''Impressive,'' Mercedes mumbles, glancing at the bride's dress. ''Although I don't know Isabelle actually did a good job creating something out of Adidas tracksuits, or if it's just the weirdest thing I've ever seen.''

''Hmm, I was also trying to figure that out,'' I tilt my head at the bridal couple, who were getting married right now. The two mothers, who were sitting on the front row, were hysterically clinging onto each other, letting out strange noises.

''Why didn't you bring Blaine instead of me?''

I snap my head back at Mercedes, who was curiously glancing at me.

''Because. I got to bring someone and it didn't even occur to me to take him,'' I shrug, after that hooking my arm on Mercedes' and leaning my head onto her shoulder to distract her.

''Hm,'' Mercedes hums. ''I think you guys should stop being so immature and just make up already.''

''Here, look at this,'' I say in another attempt to distract her by pulling out my phone. ''Somehow Brittany knows I'm in Lima today, so now she keeps stalking me. She wants me to stop by her parents' house and take Lord Tubbington to New York with me.'' I show Mercedes a photo of a pouting Brittany I just received.

''Let's do that,'' Mercedes pulls my arm, ''yes! It'll be fun. We haven't seen her parents in ages and I actually like Lord Tubbington.''

''No,'' I firmly shake my head. I remember the last encounter I had with Brittany in New York. I was on my way to work when I ran into her. She wouldn't stop talking about her fat cat for over an hour. Turned out her parents tried to take the cat with them on the plane but he, somehow, escaped from its cage and almost caused the plane to crash. ''We're not doing that. I want to land safely in New York tonight, _alive_.''

''You're boring.''

''_Excuse me_?'' I hiss, just too loud, because the people on the row in front of them turn around to give us annoyed glances.

''_Sorry_,'' I put up my hands as apology, then turning around at Mercedes again. ''_Boring_? I'm the one who arranged the entire wedding here. I actually need to be at Vogue right now because of the event tonight but I'm here in Lima. _And you're boring_. If it weren't for me, you would've spend another New Year's Eve on the couch with the hub-''

''Okay, okay. Stop, I get your point,'' Mercedes cuts me off.

''Thank you.''

''Oh, Kurt?''

''_Yes_?'' I sigh.

''I just got a message. It's from Santana and she wants me to read it to you.''

I feel all the blood from my face going to my neck. It is weird, but it always happens when I feel nervous. I could already guess what the message will say, because Santana knows me too well. It is probably a gay thing. Gaydar or something like that.

''What does it say?''

''_Hummel, I know you've read Brittany's messages and you're ignoring her. How do I know that? My psychic Mexican third eye, needs I say more? I need you to stop throwing yourself a goddamn pity party over bowtie all the time and just care about other people for once. Brittany, for example. Just please, get that fatass of a cat on the fucking plane to New York for me, okay? And don't tell her. Love always_.''

''God,'' I couldn't help but rolling my eyes. ''The sarcasm in that last sentence.''

''… _and I now pronounce you, Mr. Figgins and Mrs. Sylvester as man and wife. You may kiss the bride_.''

''Okay, _that's it_,'' I stand up and pull Mercedes along, ''let's go.''


	6. Sam

_December 31, 1 PM – Columbus Avenue, New York_

I glance briefly at my phone. Still no answer. As I cross the street in a hurry, I over think my decision. Was it right to call Quinn's mom? Wasn't it sissy? I could've called Quinn just as easily. Whatever, I did the best I could to let Puck have a nice New Year's Eve since years and that was it.

Lost in thoughts, and maybe a little because of intoxication since Puck insisted we'd at least drink four beers, I notice I'm standing halfway the zebra crossing, the cars around me impatiently horning at me. In apology, I raise my hands and continue my way.

_Shit_. The shiny thing. Almost forgot it, again.

In one motion, I slip the diamond off my finger and put it safely in the inside pocket of my blazer. I hate having to think about everything, but okay, it's my own fault since I didn't pay attention last time. It's for the best and eventually everyone will forgive me, that's what romantic comedies taught me. Guy falls for a girl, they hook up for a few months, guy screws up and after a little while makes up with the girl because they can't live without each other. And the guy is way too hot to let go, of course.

I glance around if there's anyone near me and then, discretely fix my hair in the mirror of a little coffee shop and put my glasses –without prescription- on. _Dang, I look good_.

''_Sam_?''

Reflexively, my briefcase along with my beauty case, fall on the ground. No, I don't have a real _beauty _beauty case, but it's one for males. It doesn't consist a straightener, tons of useless make-up, nail polish in every color of the rainbow, or a thousand and one variations on a hair clip. I only carry it with me because I need my hair gel, razor and aftershave.

As if it couldn't get any worse, the entire content of my beauty case starts rolling down the street, including foundation. Okay maybe I lied, I do have foundation, but pretty much every male model wears foundation at photo shoots. Did you know that?

''I'm sorry,'' one of my best friends hands me my stuff with a puzzled facial expression, ''didn't mean to scare you.''

''Dude, it's okay,'' I pull Blaine in a quick hug to distract him from the foundation fiasco, ''how are you doing?''

''Good, good…'' Blaine mutters while he obviously seizes me up. ''And so are you seen your- _hey_, we,'' he turns around and nods towards one of the tables on the terrace where a smiling Tina is sitting, ''we're just having lunch. Wanna join us? Or are you working?''

''Uh-,'' I maunder, taking a quick look at my watch, ''yeah, sure, why not? My next meeting is at three anyways.''

I join them and order a salad and milk, which causes Tina and Blaine to frown from behind their fries and burgers. Need to mind the calories though. Tina tells me all about Kurt's and Blaine's umpteenth break-up, in front of a intensely flushing Blaine, who tries to change the subject several times. I learn both Kurt and Mercedes are in Lima today for a wedding, and rumor has it Brittany and Santana live between artists, junkies and immigrants in a tiny, tucked away apartment somewhere in Manhattan. Nobody seems to know where in Manhattan precisely.

I tell them how I picked up Puck from the airport, and how I tried to get Quinn to get on the plane, last-minute, which Tina and Blaine find extremely romantic of course. Proves I'm not the only one watching juicy romantic comedies. _Duh_.

''Guess what this woman did today,'' Blaine grins dopily after several martinis –doesn't the man need somewhere to be today?-, as he wraps one arm around Tina's shoulder.

''Don't know, start an Asian show choir?'' I suggest while cramming the last pieces of lettuce into my mouth.

The smile on Tina's face turns into a grimace. ''What? No, _Sam_, that's racist. I quit my job, the strong and independent woman that I am.''

''Tell him what you did,'' Blaine insists.

''After I quit I pulled the fire alarm,'' Tina exclaims, a proud smile covering her entire face.

''Oh shit, was that you?'' I can't help but rolling my eyes. Quinn's mother told me about the horror going on in household Fabray because of the incident. ''Better not let Quinn hear that.''

''What?'' Blaine's mouth drops. ''You should be proud of her, Frank treated her like she was a piece of shit, Sam, and-''

''I am, _I am proud of her_,'' I assure them while I wipe off my face with a napkin. ''It's just, Quinn's mother told me she's pretty stressed because of Beth and her work and stuff and I thought- _Never mind guys_,'' I wave with my hand as they keep giving me baffled glances and stand up from my chair. ''This has been nice but I really gotta go, I'll see you tonight?''

''Uh, _yeah_,'' they both nod, frowning at each other.

''Great,'' I give them thumbs up and grab my stuff together.

''What are you going to do anyways?'' Blaine nods at my beauty case. ''Since when do lawyers need foundation?''

''What? I don't,'' I casually try to restore my pride, ''that's not mine. My boss asked me to stop by the grocery store for his daughter.''

''That's nice of you,'' Tina smiles, the sweet, naïve angel that she is, and Blaine actually seems to buy it.

''Cool,'' Blaine nods approvingly, ''yeah we'll see you tonight. Do your best to get Quinn here, will you? I'd like to see her, it's been years.''

After we said good-byes I cross the street as quick as I can, feeling two pairs of eyes burning in the expensive fabric of my blazer. _God_, that was close. As I walk around the corner I pull out my phone and search through my contacts and dial the number of my dearest wheelchair friend.

''Hey, man,'' I sigh as I slump down in the backseat of a cab and he finally picks up his phone, ''_change of plans_.''


End file.
